


Thantophobia

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), Boffin1710



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Aftermath, Blood and Injury, Denial, Explosions, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:38:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710
Summary: thantophobia (n.) the fear of loosing someone you love..."Too Late" Artwork by mr-quartermaster on Tumblr and our fic to go along with it for 00Q Reverse Big Bang 2017-2018





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mr_quartermaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_quartermaster/gifts).




	2. Chapter 2

James had seen a lot of blood, gore and death throughout his life, so it took him by surprise that seeing simple, black framed glasses covered in blood would break him so.  The shutters came down on his emotions, and was replaced by a blank mask, but he couldn't help that his eyes were drawn back to the glasses on the floor.  There was something missing.    


Green eyes blinked at him through the swirling dust.  Most of it had settled, but every time someone moved small clouds billowed again, clinging to uniforms, boots, and Bond's grey Tom Ford.  "Q-branch got attacked last night, couple survivors, some bodies missing from the scene..."

"Q?"  Bond's brow wrinkled in confusion.  He knew the person standing in front of him was not Q, but he was finding it hard to keep a grasp on the shocking reality that surrounded them.  And those glasses in the puddle of dark red. "Bodies missing?"

"The Chief is over there," green-eyes pointed to a group of emergency service uniforms, "the tall black bloke.  He can give you an update.  Are you the boss?"

"What?  Oh... no.  Just looking for my..."  Lover.  Partner.  The man who should be behind those glasses that are lying in the glossy puddle over there.  "Friend," Bond finished lamely.

"Three live ones came out, far as I know.  All female.  Maybe she's one of those, eh?  Anyway, I have to..."  He nodded towards the recovery effort was still ongoing.  Recovery of bodies.  No one else left alive.

"The Quartermaster.  Wild dark hair, skinny, glasses...?"

"Oh yeah."  Bond's hopes were dashed in seconds.  "I don’t know."    


Bond prayed for the first time in years.

Bond's hand automatically picked up the dark framed glasses lying in the floor.   They were slick in his fingers.  Wet.  Viscous.  Sticky with clotting lifeblood that was now cold.  It coated his fingers.  Seeped into the cuffed of his bespoke shirt.  It was just an instinctive movement to reach inside his suit coat and put them into his shirt pocket for safekeeping.    
  
He made a direct line to the tall black uniformed man who appeared to be directing the recovery scene, the one pointed out just now.  Moving out of the way for rescue personnel, gurneys, and stepping over fallen Q branch techs.  Some faces he knew, now unmoving.  Expressions froze in terror and pain.    
  
"Can I help you?"  He paused for a second in between giving orders on a Comm link.     
  
"Bond. James Bond." He offered the taller man his hand.  "I'm looking for someone who would have been in the room.  It's imperative that I find him.  A valuable asset of MI6.   It's Quartermaster.  Wild dark hair, skinny, glasses...?"   
  
"Can't say he sounds familiar among those I've seen.   There were a few that were taken to medical before we arrived in the scene.   He might have been among them.   Sorry I can't help you more."   
  
"Bond."   Bond turned around at a familiar voice.     
  
"Where's Q, Tanner?   He's not here. Where is he?"   In a heartbeat he had switched to mission mode and the narrow focus of that intense icy glare was Tanner.    
  
"Medical.  He was taken directly to medical, Bond."   007 pushed past him. 007... not Bond or James, but 007 heading directly to the one place he avoided more than anyplace in MI6.    
  
"Bond!"  Tanner hurried after him trying to get his attention.     
  
Bond ignored all attempts by Tanner to get his attention.  He had one mission in mind, and one only.  It was only by force of will that he didn't break into a run.  He patted the pocket containing Q's glasses to ensure they were still there.

"Where is he?"  Bond demanded of the first nurse he encountered, who shook him off and hurried away into the chaotic department.  All of the usual calm order of Medical was gone, and people swarmed like ants in and out of the half dozen rooms, dodging gurneys and skipping around wheeled equipment pushed by brisk medics.

When his third bellowed query was ignored, Bond seized the first white coat he could see.  The doctor's back hit the corridor wall so hard it knocked the breath from his lungs, and the colour drained from his face.

"Where. Is. The. Quartermaster?  Tell me NOW!"

"Bond!"  Tanner moved into the agent's field of vision.  His mouth was a thin line, eyes narrowed.  “Just stop a minute.  Go to the desk, we need to confirm some details.  Maybe you could help us locate his next of kin?  That is the best way you could help the Quartermaster now.”  
  
“No, I need to see him.  Need to see with my own eyes that he’s ok.”

"Room at the end of the corridor,” the medic stammered, “But..."

"Later!"  Bond dropped the terrified doctor, and turned on his heel moving rapidly towards the double swing doors, still trailed by the Chief of Staff.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Bond hesitated at the med room door, leaning heavily against the frame for a brief moment.  Emotional tension threatened to crumble his double o exterior armour.  However, years and years of being in the field allowed him to maintain the masked control.   The only person who would have immediately been able to pick up on that chink in his armour lay in the bed in front of him.     
  
The room was dimly lit. Monitors lined one wall. Intravenous tubing hung from a stand near the bed.  Q lay in the bed. Pale. Quiet. Stark white bedding pulled up over chest, obviously covering the more serious injuries, warding off the chill from the cool room.  Thin arms lay on top of the bedding.  Pale, marred with bruises and gashes.     
  
Bond stopped halfway to the bed.  Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath.    
  
"007? ... Bond?"  Tanner's voice cut through the darkness surrounding him.    
  
"Give us a moment alone."  Bond demanded, voice gruff, laced with... something.    
  
"Of course," Tanner backed out of the room leaving the agent alone with his Quartermaster.   
  
Bond stepped up towards the side of the bed free of medical equipment.  Pulling up one of the hard plastic chairs nearby, he sat near the head of the bed.  Hand reached out to smooth away Q's riotous curls away from his face, flinching at the sight of a curl matted with the sticky remains of blood.  The back of his hand brushed over Q's forehead, the ridge of his fine bones cheek.    
  
"I'm so sorry I wasn't here, Darling.  This shouldn't have happened."  Bond swallowed hard choking back a sob that threatened to surge upwards.  Q was so pale, so quiet, it was unnerving.    
  
"I will find who did this Q."  Bond's fingers slowly curled around a bony shoulder, tracing down an arm through the ragged skinned gashes until they entwined with the long slender ones lying on the bedding.    
  
"You behave, Quartermaster.  Let medical do their magic."   
  
He sat there, silent, thumb rubbing circles over the back of Q's hand before leaning in to whisper into Q's ear. No one else being able to hear.  "I will find them Q.  Come back to you soon. My promise to you, Darling."   Bond placed a gentle kiss to the pale ridge of his jaw.  "You're mine Quartermaster.  Remember that.  No one harms what is mine and lives."   
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

“I need to see M,” Bond threw over his shoulder as he hurried along the corridor. “And everything that’s been gathered on the destruction of Q-branch. You’ll have someone gathering intelligence already, I assume? Collating the data from the investigation teams.”

Tanner scurried along behind him. “Yes, but-”

“Give me Moneypenny. I trust her to go through the details, see links… unless, R?”  
Tanner shook his head but Bond was already out of Medical’s double doors. “Bond! R is in Medical with a broken arm and lacerations. Moneypenny has been escorted home. As you will appreciate, this is very distressing for her. She and Q were close.”

Close. Bond paused, shoulders stiffened under his dusty suit. Yes, they were close. But she wasn't the only one and no one else in Six would think to inform Bond that Q was hurt. He nudged the wall with his fist, using all his restraint to keep from slamming a punch into the plaster. He began walking again, heading for the upper reaches of the building.

James continued towards Mallory's office with Tanner following along behind him a few paces mobile now glued to his ear. "I don't care how or what it takes to get the Intel. Make it happen!" Tanner stopped briefly in his trailing of Bond listening to bits and pieces of the conversation on the other side. "If you can't make it happen then maybe someone else needs to take control of Q Branch!"

Bond's stride hesitated for a moment at the mention of Q Branch. Q Branch was his Quartermaster's domain. His safe zone. And it had been violated, destroyed. He needed to find who had a part in this and deal with them. Must be done so when Q was again capable of taking the reins, he would know his domain was safe once more.

Bond jerked the outer door of Mallory's office open, bouncing it off the wall with a thud, heading directly towards the inner door that was slightly cracked. "Bond!" Tanner hurried in after him trying to delay him from bursting in on the head of MI6.

Bond gave Mallory's office door the same treatment as the outer door. "I want this assignment!" Bond demanded, not giving Mallory a chance to speak or noticing that 003 and 009 were in Mallory's office seated in front of his desk. How could Mallory even think to give this to someone else, Bond fumed inwardly. He was senior agent. And Q needed him to do this. He needed to do this for Q.

"Could both of you please give 007 and I a moment?" Mallory nodded towards the outer office. Both agents rose to leave, Bond never acknowledging their presence.

"Please don't leave gentlemen." Tanner stepped aside to let them both exit to the outer office.

"Sit down, 007."

Mallory rose so he was on a level with Bond, who appeared far too agitated to settle into a chair. Understandable. The attack on Q-branch had unsettled the entire service. Friends and colleagues were deceased or injured, and vital equipment destroyed. But that didn't excuse an agent storming his office. Not even Bond.

"I want this assignment!" Bond repeated, pacing the length of Mallory's office. He caught sight of his reflection in the office window and swiftly smoothed a hand over his hair which was standing on end.

"You returned from Montenegro less than 48 hours ago. Out of the question." Mallory picked up a slim file and scanned the sheet. A summary of Bond's last debrief, short and to the point, no unnecessary detail. No collateral damage for once either, though their main mark had eluded Bond in the end. Still, Q-branch were… had been… on top of that.. "You should not even be in the building, 007. According to this you have five days mandatory leave. What are you doing here?"

Q wasn't at home. Nor was he in my flat. We had a lunch date. Nothing fancy, just coffee at our favourite shop on the other side of the river. He wasn't there. I thought he'd lost himself in work, so I came to find him... Bond uttered none of that.

"I had paperwork to turn in. Something Q needed to know." His hand wandered to his hair again, a sign he wasn't his usual controlled self. Mallory noted it, but could not place why it disturbed him to see the normally unperturbed agent determined but on the edge of his control. "Nobody else can move on this as quickly as I can. I am ready to go now!"

“No. If you have further intel that the agents outside need to hear you may stay while I finish their briefing. Otherwise, go home.” Mallory tossed the slim file back onto his desk and motioned to Tanner to call the two other double os back into his office. “We have enough chaos to contend with and I have two priorities. First, to get our agents moving. Second, to appoint a new Quartermaster to restore order to what remains of the branch.”

“New…? Q will be out for a while, but he’ll be able to work again, he’ll make sure of it.”

Mallory’s head snapped up and he held out a halting hand, stopping Tanner in his tracks. “Resurrection is your specialty Bond. Sadly our Quartermaster had no such good fortune.”

“I tried to explain…” Tanner trailed off, but the awful truth had dawned on Mallory. Bond didn’t know. 

Mallory rearranged his features into what he hoped was something bordering on sympathetic, or as much sympathy as the Head of MI6 could afford when breaking bad news.

“007. Bond. I regret to inform you that the Quartermaster was lost in the attack on Q-branch. As you will appreciate, formal announcements have not been made as to the deceased until all have been accounted for but…”

“He’s in Medical. He’s in the room at the end of the corridor. Bit bashed up, but he was sleeping peacefully.” Bond babbled as he strode around the room now, restlessly picking things up and putting them down again. Mallory was talking shite. He didn’t know. Bond had seen Q, had held his hand, had kissed his brow...

He stopped short when Tanner stepped in front of him, eyes filled with grief and sympathy. He reached out and gently laid a hand on the agent’s shoulder. “Bond… they tried, but… When you saw him, the machines, all the equipment… it was silent.”

Bond’s mouth worked soundlessly, wanting to shout the other men down, to deny what Tanner had disclosed. But the quiet of the hospital room mocked him. He couldn’t recall the irritating, yet reassuring beeping that had been his companion on many a stay in Medical. He couldn’t feel the gentle huff of breath of the sleeping man against his cheek when he bent to whisper his apology.

“No. No, no…” He looked up and up from where he found himself slumped on the floor, at two suited pairs of legs, two pairs of polished shoes. Two concerned faces watching him warily. And he let his head fall back against the polished wood of Mallory’s desk and whispered to himself. “Too late.”


	5. Chapter 5

Bond slipped inside the door of their flat, bottle of scotch clutched tightly in his hand … Q’s flat… carefully closing the door behind him. He slumped back against the door, head thumping solidly against the wood. He head throbbed painfully, flashes of scenes and ugly raw thoughts pounded at him. Q pale, silent in that medical bed. Q sitting at the table, hair jumbled, glasses askew. Toast in one hand. Tea in the other. Q pleading with him, voice panicked, gurgling. Q standing at his workstation in Q Branch giving him a small smile from across the room. Blood, bright red…warm.. soaking his hands, covering his suit. Blood… Q’s blood.

“Bond? You’re here!” A voice suddenly bringing him back to reality. Moneypenny was framed in kitchen doorway, bag of cat food in hand and furry beast curling around her ankles purring loudly. Her hand extended towards him, concern and sadness shadowing her dark brown eyes. She should be disgusted. Should be turning him away, but instead she stepped into the cool hallway and gently pulled him towards her.

“It’s ok, James. I know. I know what he meant to you.”

Her arms are around him and Bond feels his last bit of sanity crumble in the tide of tears that silently flow. She takes the bottle from unresisting fingers. “Come inside. We’ll talk.” She pushes him gently ahead of her but halfway into the room he stops and falls to his knees.

“It’s my fault. I was there, but… it’s all a blur. I can’t. Help me, Moneypenny. Please.” Bond stares at his hands half expecting them to be covered in blood.

Moneypenny sank to her knees beside him and reached out a slim hand to his shoulder. Rubbing soothing circles against his shirt sleeve - goodness knew where his jacket had been left - she let him wrestle with his emotions. It disturbed her to see the strongest man she knew so broken with grief.

“You are not to blame,” she said softly, pulling Bond against her side until they were both sitting on the floor, leaning against the edge of the sofa. “There’s nothing more you could have done.”

Bond was heavy against her shoulder, as though the physical effort of holding himself upright was now too much. “I was too late…” he whispered. “I came back to warn him. But I was the danger all along.”

Moneypenny squeezed his shoulder. Bond had slipped so far into his own head that his words were barely more than a hoarse muttering she had to struggle to hear.

“Tell me what you remember, James. That’s the best thing you can do for Q now.” She shook her head to his wordless request for the bottle and he let out a low pained moan.

“I was there. In Q-branch… Brought it back with me. For Q. Thought it might help to prevent. But instead…”

“No! It’s not real.” The smell of blood assails him and he can feel in warm, sticky own his hands, oozing between his fingers. He buried his face in his hands, curling into a foetal position with his head turned away from her. Sure she would turn on him when he told her what he’d done.

“I saw him across the room talking with a couple of the analysts. Caught his eye and waved it at him. Knew he’d be keen to get his hands on it, so I put it on his workstation then went to find coffee. Oh god… I didn’t have it scanned or checked at all… just brought it straight to him and all along it was the weapon...”

“James? What was it? What did you bring?” Moneypenny reaches for his shoulder to gently turn him into his back. “The investigators will want to know. To find out what happened to Q.”

“Will it help him?” The note of hope still held a sharp edge. Warring reality and denial. Bond buried his hands into the nearest thing and tried to wipe the sticky blood away.

Moneypenny gently disentangled his fingers from her sweater. She held on to one of Bond’s calloused hands. Cool to touch, rough. “You know it won’t,” she said gently. “You remember now.”

Smoke and choking dust. Ringing in his ears that made his head pound. He spat, coughed. Stumbled his way across the floor to where...

“Quartermaster? Q?”

Falling to his knees, hands wavering over the fallen man. Indecision. He was never indecisive. Hesitation.  Blood... groaning. He...

He pulled the younger man into his arms, Almost falling under the dead weight. Cupping Q’s cheek heedless of the blood soaking into his shirt. “Open your eyes,” he demanded hoarsely.


	6. Chapter 6

Falling to his knees, hands wavering over the fallen man. Indecision. He was never indecisive. Blood. And groaning. And what to do? He pulled the younger man into his arms, Almost falling under the dead weight. Cupping Q’s cheek heedless of the blood soaking into his shirt. “Open your eyes,” he demanded hoarsely.

The gash across Q’s left cheek that traveling towards his nose trickled a thin red trail down his face that Bond gently swiped at with a finger. His glasses. Where are his glasses? Bond thought frantically. Q without his glasses was… dark lashes barely fluttered. Still masking those green eyes Bond desperately needed to see. “Q! Open your eyes,” his words wavered.

Bond applied hard pressure to the gaping wound in Q’s torso pulling a weak whine the Quartermaster. He hoped to stem the flow of blood now seeping through Q’s cardigan, creeping further up the white button down that was in the bundle of cleaning Bond knew he had picked up just days before.

“...’ames…” Unfocused eyes fluttered half open searching for the voice he knew.

“Q. I’m here. It’s going to be alright.” Bond pressed harder into the dampening cardigan, leaning in until his face is inches away from Q’s. “Medical is on the way.” He assured him knowing alerts had to be sounding throughout the building.

“...’ames…”

“Shush… it’s alright Q.” Bond pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so sorry… god...I didn’t…”

“...’ames… Love…,” A gurgling breath followed a shuddered that ran through Q’s broken body.

“No! Don’t say it!” Bond demanded swallowing hard as emotions threatened to steal his words. “You are not leaving me, Q! You cannot leave me!”

“Ok mate, you need to let me look at him.” The fluorescent vest crouched beside them and urgently tugged Bond’s fingers away from Q’s stomach. “Lift his clothing clear if you want to help.”

Bond curled his sticky fingers around the hem of Q’s shirt when the medic pushed it out of the way. Blood welled quickly, streaming over Q’s belly. His breathing was shallow, laboured.

“He’s going to be ok.” Bond asserted, avoiding the sharp glance from the other man. “He won’t leave me.”

“I can make him comfortable, but we need to get him out of here. Press here, I’ll be right back.” He squeezed Bond’s shoulder as he left, shaking his head at a colleague as they passed.

The man melted away into the swirling dust and another violent shudder ran the length of Q’s body. “Stay with me, Q. Open your goddamn eyes. I can’t... say something… please…. forgive me...”

But Q was still and silent.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Wheels rattled over the debris strewn floor and stopped by Bond. “We’ll take him from here. If you know who he is give the details to the blonde girl over there. She’s collating a list of victims.”

Bond allowed them to pull Q out of his arms and place him on the stretcher, strapping him in place. “I want to go with him.”

“Details first. Nothing you can do here, mate. They’re taking them all to your medical wing for now. Live ones are already on their way to St Thomas’”

Bond stooped to pull the blanket up to Q’s chin. He’d been shivering. “He was feeling cold,” he explained.

The paramedic gave Bond a pat on the shoulder and gently pushed him towards the blonde. “Not anymore. We’ll look after him.” He pulled the blanket higher, covering Q’s face.

So many things rushed through Bond’s head. The vision of someone else’s blood on his hands that he had cared about in another place, another time. Hurt. Anger. The soft press of Q’s back against his chest as they dosed in bed. The sounds Q made as they were tangled together, pressing deep inside him. Cold cups of tea left abandoned through the flat. His hand felt sticky, coated with Q’s blood. It stained his suit jacket and dress shirt.

He would need to change their dinner reservation for the weekend. Q would obviously not be well enough yet to go out.

Medical.

They were taking him to Medical.

He would be well cares for there. He needed to assist in the investigation. Give the detailed of what he knew.

Bond rose and headed away from the scene, stopping briefly to retrieve the Quartermaster’s glasses from the floor. He would need them later.

Bond’s hands shook. Breath hitched. Words shook. “Oh god Moneypenny. I didn’t give him time to speak. And I let them take him away from me.”


End file.
